On the Seventh Day We Rested

When I was a teenager, my older brother Mike and I would attend church almost every Sunday. Or would we? We'd arrive at the door of the church, and he would have me---because I was younger and more innocent looking---enter, swipe a bulletin, look at who was conducting the liturgy, and then swiftly exit. Then it was a short walk downtown to the only pool hall open on Sundays. There he would shoot a few games with older dudes while I watched. After an hour came the walk home with proof for our parents---the bulletin and the liturgist's name---that we had attended church. No wonder I grew up so ignorant of religion.

-Old Doc